


Revenge of the Baby-Sat

by wheel_pen



Series: Bedeviled [8]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 02:26:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8353297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: Teenage Erik has to babysit his Omega Charles and sister Raven for the weekend, a not-uncommon occurrence. Inviting his girlfriend to join them at Charles’s house seemed like a good idea at the time.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The bad words are censored; that’s just how I do things. I own nothing and appreciate the chance to play in this universe.

 

Erik@16, Charles@10

Erik and Charlotte were supposed to be studying. But he had to think his parents didn’t really believe that, or didn’t care, because they’d gone out to dinner and a movie and left the teens alone in the apartment. Naturally, they had started making out the moment the adults had left, textbooks still in their backpacks.

Erik tasted the Beta girl slowly, finding the experience pleasant but awkward, with a tendency toward messiness. He experimented with different angles, trying to find the correct one, the right amount of lips and tongue and teeth.

“Stop moving your head,” Erik murmured in her ear, before kissing her neck. Necks were nice too, warm and soft with the pulse fluttering under thin skin.

“Sorry,” Charlotte panted. Her kisses were a little timid, but Erik wasn’t sure yet how to describe what he wanted. He’d been with more experienced people previously—one had to start somewhere—but thought it was important to also try being the more dominant partner. He was an Alpha, that was his nature; and he needed to learn to communicate with someone who might be more uncertain, and reassure them.

“Try putting your hand here,” Erik suggested in what he meant as a kind tone, moving her hand from the bed to his chest. His own hand slid up her leg, under the skirt of her school uniform. She had nice legs, anyway, though Erik suspected his standards weren’t very refined.

Charlotte had trouble coordinating both hands and mouth; if one was moving, the other tended to go still. Erik had had that problem at first, too, and felt both practice and confidence were required to overcome it. The former he was happy to give, but he wasn’t certain how to impart the latter. This seemed important to know, though.

“You’re doing really well,” he encouraged her.

For some reason Charlotte made a little face at this, like she was laughing at him. “Thanks,” she replied dryly, and Erik tried to make sure he wasn’t drooling or anything else embarrassing that might undermine his greater experience here.

“Try to breathe through your nose more,” he advised, diving back in. Charlotte was a pretty girl, quite bright; when they talked—they _did_ talk sometimes—she didn’t say stupid things, the way some of the other Betas did. And she was neat and organized, which Erik felt too few people appreciated. He didn’t choose people to date _randomly_ , after all.

His hand slid above her knee—knees were nice when bent, knobby and fleshy when straight—and he felt her grab his arm and pull back, a clear signal to slow down. This was natural and he withdrew his hand back to the safe zone, pausing to let her regroup. It was cute, the way her face was flushed and her lips swollen. That was _his_ doing, _his_ actions which had brought her pleasure, stirred her emotions, made her heart pound. There was a heady feeling of power in that and Erik leaned back in to kiss her more eagerly.

Charlotte’s hand came up to his chest to stop him. “Let’s take a break for a bit,” she suggested hesitantly.

This was frustrating, but of course Erik had to respect her wishes. “Sure,” he agreed, leaning back several inches away. His hand sat chastely on the bed, fingers intertwined with hers. His eyes scanned every inch of her face; for a moment he was consumed with the desire to memorize every shape, every curve, then he got distracted thinking about something else, and the moment passed and he glanced around the room instead, wondering if they should start their homework.

“Um, so, Friday night,” Charlotte blurted suddenly. “You and I are going to the movies with Andrea and Kim, right? We don’t _have_ to see that romantic comedy, I’m sure there’s something else—“

“Oh, I can’t go,” Erik finally said. She looked surprised—he guessed he’d forgotten to tell her. “I have to babysit Charles and Raven.” Now Charlotte looked disappointed; Erik thought that was silly, but he knew his mother would want him to be nice about it. “Um, you could come if you want,” he suggested, the first thing that popped into his mind.

Charlotte pushed herself off the bed and went to her backpack. “You _said_ you were free Friday,” she reminded him, sounding slightly petulant. “I thought we could go out with friends, or do something together—“

She stopped speaking before she said, ‘without Charles,’ which was just as well; Erik was already exercising considerable restraint to avoid rolling his eyes. “Well, I’m sorry,” he allowed, trying to be fair. “When I told you I was free Friday, I thought I was. But Charles’s mum decided to leave on her trip earlier, so now I have to go to his house for the whole weekend, starting Friday afternoon.” That was perfectly simple, wasn’t it?

Apparently not. “I don’t see why _you_ have to babysit him all the time,” Charlotte replied, and now Erik _did_ roll his eyes, climbing off the bed to start laying out his own homework. “I mean, the house is full of servants,” she went on, a bit defensively. “Who’s going to look after Charles and Raven after you leave on Sunday?”

“The servants,” Erik agreed easily. “But believe me, they need a break from those two.”

“Well, she could hire someone else,” Charlotte persisted.

Erik was beginning to find this tiresome. People who couldn’t accept Charles’s presence in his life didn’t last long in it themselves. Well, Charlotte wasn’t _meant_ to last long.

“Charles needs special handling,” he said anyway. “And Raven. I wouldn’t trust any random person to look after them. Really, you think I _like_ spending every weekend with the little monsters?” Erik went on when Charlotte scoffed. “I would love to do something by myself for once. Or hang out with you and your friends,” he added quickly. “But I have to look after Charles.” Erik had slowly learned to accept this; he didn’t need someone erroneously suggesting it might not be true, attacking the convictions he’d been working on for the last four years.

“It just doesn’t seem fair to you,” Charlotte went on. She opened up her math textbook and took out the papers she’d started working on at school, determinedly casual and ingratiating. “I mean, he’s just a little kid, he shouldn’t be your responsibility.”

“Well he is.” This came out more sharply than Erik had intended. But they’d talked about this before. He took a breath to calm himself. “Charles is part of my life, that’s just how it is for a bonded Alpha and Omega.” Charlotte’s family were all Betas, so she wasn’t used to this kind of thing.

“Right,” she agreed with resignation.

They began to work on their math problems quietly. Erik felt oddly guilty, an unpleasant, vaguely nauseous sensation. He _had_ told Charlotte he’d be free on Friday night, and go to Charles’s house on Saturday—then Sharon had changed her plans at the last minute, because she had an annoying tendency to do that, and asked him to come down Friday after school instead. Erik could never say no that—everyone would think he was being selfish.

The only reason he was even allowed to date anyone right now—like Charlotte—was because Charles was so young, and their parents had agreed it would be okay, as a special favor, as long as he kept things casual. Obviously, refusing to attend Charles because of his ‘girlfriend’ would not be looked upon kindly, which Erik understood and accepted. Frankly, it made things easier for him—it took a lot of decisions out of his hands, and gave him something to blame when really, he just didn’t feel like spending time with people he barely knew. Why should he get to know Charlotte’s friends, when they would only be together for a little while?

Still, he could see how she would be disappointed.

“Why don’t you come with me, to Charles’s house?” Erik offered again, more seriously this time. “I’m sure no one would mind. You could stay Friday night, and someone could drive you home on Saturday.” The more he thought about this plan, the more brilliant it seemed.

Charlotte wasn’t so sure. “Really?” she asked dubiously. “I could come to Charles’s house?”

“Sure,” Erik insisted. “It’s not like they don’t have room. You could sleep in an entirely different wing from me.” In case she was worried about what her parents would say. And, if they forbid it anyway, then _they_ would be the bad guys, not Erik.

“But you don’t think—“ She seemed uncertain how to explain whatever was on her mind, which was no help to Erik. “I mean, like, Charles wouldn’t be… jealous, or anything?”

“Well, I’d have to play with him and Raven while they were up,” Erik warned. “You’d play with them, too—they’d be thrilled to have someone else paying attention to them. But we could stay up after they go to bed,” he enticed. “Maybe watch a movie, have some pizza—“

“No, I mean—Like, just me being there,” Charlotte tried to articulate. “As your girlfriend. That wouldn’t make him jealous, or upset him?”

It took Erik a moment to grasp her meaning, and then he found her concern absurd. “Oh. No, no, Charles is like my little brother right now,” he assured her. “He won’t care about _that_.”

“Oh,” Charlotte replied with some relief. “Okay, well, I’ll think about it.” This time the mood seemed warmer as they went back to their homework.

Erik was having trouble concentrating on math, though. Something about what he’d told Charlotte just didn’t seem accurate, and that was something Erik hated. Charles wasn’t _really_ like his little brother—Erik did not have any siblings himself for comparison, but his parents did, and their lives were much more independent than his and Charles’s. He saw his aunts and uncles maybe every couple of months, and did not think his parents kept up-to-date on their daily lives. In other words, they did not feel the need to take care of their younger siblings now that they were all adults—whereas Erik would _always_ be taking care of Charles, and actually their interdependence would only increase the older they got.

The thing it reminded Erik of, really, was a neighbor who lived downstairs, an older woman who was always friendly and cheerful when he saw her at the mailboxes. She’d had some kind of condition since she was born, he’d heard, and she moved in with her brother’s family when their parents got too old to care for her. She would be living with him for the rest of her life.

“Charles is like my _handicapped_ little brother,” Erik announced, which probably seemed to Charlotte like it came out of nowhere. It was too perfect an insight to keep to himself, however. “Because when I’m older I’ll have to take care of him even more, by myself. That’s just how it is.” He nodded to himself, much more satisfied with this brilliant analogy.

Charlotte scoffed, though. “Your _handicapped_ little brother? That’s nice,” she commented sarcastically. “I’m sure he’d like to hear that.”

“I don’t think he would care,” Erik shrugged. If anything Charles would laugh, and use it as an excuse to be even more mischievous. “Well, do you want to come with me Friday night?” he pressed. On the one hand it seemed like a great way to multi-task, and keep him from having to deal with Charlotte being mad at him; on the other, he sometimes looked forward to having a break from the people he knew at school. “I’ll be leaving right after class.”

“Well, I’ll have to ask my parents,” Charlotte hedged. Then she smiled. “But yeah, I think it sounds fun.” She had a nice smile, and for a moment Erik enjoyed looking at it. Then Charlotte squirmed self-consciously and broke the spell. “Er, you’re sure Charles’s mom won’t mind?” she checked.

“Nah, she won’t care.” Of that Erik was certain.

**

They drove out to the Xavier mansion after school on Friday. Erik had gotten his license a while earlier and had already made the drive several times; he felt substantially more adult now that he didn’t need someone to drive him there, and with his own car to leave when he wanted. It was nice to know he could operate on his own schedule now, instead of someone else’s.

“Whoa,” Charlotte commented as they approached the gates, and Erik opened them with his remote control to reveal the house in all its glory.

“Yep,” he replied succinctly. The house and grounds were ridiculously excessive; no small family like Charles’s could possibly use them fully. And Erik personally preferred something more modern and sleek, with clean lines and in a more convenient location—that was the kind of apartment he was going to have someday, in the city near his father’s company’s headquarters, where Erik would work.

They drove around the urns and sculptures, lightly laced with soggy snow, and past the grandiose front door to the spot in the garage where Erik parked, and he turned off the engine. “Well,” he said to Charlotte, “are you ready?” It was a bit late to back out now.

She laughed a little bit, but this turned to a shriek when suddenly small faces sprang up to the windows and thumped on the car. “Erik! Erik!” they squealed excitedly.

Erik was startled, but not surprised, and he set his face grimly and motioned the children away from his door so he could open it. Charles glommed onto his legs immediately and squeezed, like he thought he could lift the teenager through willpower alone. “Charles!” Erik said severely. “What have I told you about running into the garage?”

“Erik! Erik! Erik!” Charles continued to chant excitedly.

Erik was not swayed. “You are _not_ to run into the garage before I’ve gotten out of the car!” he reiterated. “I might hit you with it.”

This did not cow Charles. “The car was off, Erik!” he insisted. “I’m so happy to see you, I couldn’t wait to see you! I want to show you my pictures and my art projects and my new toys and my video—“

“Ha ha, look what I found!” Raven announced triumphantly. Erik had not checked on her soon enough and now she was racing around the garage, gleefully dangling a white bra. It was too small to be her mother’s—and the back door of Erik’s car was now open.

“Oh my G-d, give that back!” Charlotte demanded, jumping out of the car, her face beet red.

Erik snatched up Raven before she and Charles could devise an escape plan and held her out to Charlotte, who grabbed the bra back and hurriedly stuffed it into her overnight bag. Par for the course, really, she hadn’t believed him when Erik suggested a lock.

Raven tried to dive out of his arms—which would land her headfirst on the concrete—and Erik straightened her up firmly. “Stop,” he ordered. The children were always a little giddy when he first arrived. “This is Raven,” he introduced, trying to pretend the last sixty seconds hadn’t happened. “This is Charles. Say hello to Charlotte. She’s going to play with you today, _if_ you’re nice to her.” And so far they hadn’t gotten off to a great start.

“Hello, Charlotte!” Charles greeted warmly, and gave her a hug as if they were old friends. “I’m so glad to meet you!”

Erik smiled faintly. Charles was a spoiled little s—t sometimes, but he could also be very charming and polite, usually to people he didn’t know well. Which was sort of the opposite of how Erik tended to behave.

“Hi, Charles,” Charlotte responded, softening. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Charles’s eyes widened innocently. “Really? Erik talks about _me_?” If you didn’t know him, you’d think him completely sincere, and Erik rolled his eyes.

Raven squirmed vigorously in his arms and he set her down; she immediately tried to imitate Charles, grabbing onto Charlotte. “Hi! Hi, Charlotte!” she said insistently.

The Beta was slightly overwhelmed by the rambunctious little Alpha. “Uh, hi,” she replied.

Erik patted the girl’s head, encouraging her away from Charlotte. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

He took one child by each hand, restraining them like eager dogs on a leash, leaving Charlotte to get their backpacks. He was here often enough that he didn’t need to bring much with him for a weekend. In the main hall he finally loosed Charles and Raven and they scampered off, trying every silly form of locomotion they could think of to circle the large space.

“Whoa,” Charlotte repeated, looking around the cavernous foyer with its fussy woodwork and disapproving ancestral portraits.

“Yep,” Erik repeated. “Stewart,” he added, greeting the butler who approached. The white-haired man maintained his dignity, and his balance, even as the children galloped and shrieked around him. “They seem unusually tame today,” Erik deadpanned.

“A calm phase of the moon, sir,” the butler replied in kind. “May I take your bags?”

Erik passed them over. “This is my girlfriend, Charlotte,” he introduced. “She’ll just be here tonight.”

“Nice to meet you, miss,” Stewart responded professionally.

“Thanks, you too—“

“Erik! Play with us!” Charles and Raven demanded, grabbing him again. They had a list of activities planned for him and were impatient to get started.

“Okay, okay,” Erik agreed, maintaining his grudging attitude. They obviously didn’t need any encouragement. “What should we do first?”

They looked at the children’s latest art projects and school papers, and the new toys they’d been given or unearthed in Charles’s archaeological treasure pit of a bedroom. Then they played a board game—it was novel having four people, because usually Erik had to play two hands if four were required, as well as settle disputes, enforce the rules, and not take advantage of the children’s lack of experience or savvy.

Then it was time for dinner, which Erik had been dreading. “Salmon cakes!” Charles and Raven whooped, racing towards the distinctive scent in the kitchen.

“Do you like salmon?” Erik asked Charlotte as they proceeded more sedately. “These aren’t very fishy, and they have a lot of vegetables hidden in them so the kids will get some.”

“Sure, sounds good,” Charlotte claimed. She looked like she could use some sustenance. “I wouldn’t think kids would like salmon, though.”

“Oh, these kids are very sophisticated,” Erik commented, opening the kitchen door to see Charles and Raven circling the cook with her platter of food, as if they were plotting to tie her up and make off with the goods. “Charles! Raven!” Erik chided. “Come here and wash your hands.” This allowed the cook to escape and put the food on the table.

Salmon cakes were one of the less messy foods in rotation—it might have been spaghetti night—and Erik had to grant that Charles and Raven didn’t try to be gross on _purpose_ , or at least not for long. They used their utensils correctly and didn’t shove food into their mouths like ravenous beasts. Still, by the time they got done mashing their applesauce into the salmon cakes, and dunking their carrot sticks into ranch dressing, and smearing jam on their yeasty rolls, they had managed to get food on themselves, the table, and the floor.

“Wipe your chin,” Erik told Charles, trying to get the mess transferred to his napkin. “Raven, are you going to eat that, or are you just playing?”

She dropped her fork with a clatter. “I want a cookie!” she announced.

“No,” Erik told her immediately. “Finish your dinner if you’re hungry.”

“I want a cookie!” she repeated defiantly, looking around for the staff. Erik was in charge when he was present, though, at least for matters like this, and he gave the little Alpha a long, unimpressed stare until she backed down sourly.

Charles did not like to see his sister upset. “You did so well at Monopoly!” he praised her. “You had so many houses! Would you like some of my carrots?”

“Well, okay,” Raven agreed after a moment, and her mood seemed to improve.

The children ate faster and less than Erik and Charlotte; when they were done they pushed their plates aside, rested their chins on their hands, and _stared_ at the teens as only Charles and Raven could.

“Is something wrong?” Charlotte asked jokingly, feeling self-conscious. “Do I have food on my face?” Charles and Raven merely gazed at her without response.

“They just do that,” Erik shrugged, more used to it. “They are not allowed to leave the table on their own, because sometimes they get up to mischief.” Been there, done that, called the carpet cleaner and the haberdasher. He saw that Charlotte had put down her fork, though. “Don’t you care for it?” he asked, of her half-eaten meal. “You could have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich instead.”

Erik tried not to sound too parental, the way he did with the children; but Charlotte’s look suggested he had failed. “No, thank you, I’m fine,” she claimed.

“ _May_ I have a cookie?” Raven asked, more politely this time.

“You and Charles may each have _one_ cookie,” Erik allowed, and they hollered with glee and dashed off to the cook.

The ensuing silence with Charlotte was awkward, and Erik felt he should say something. “They can be energetic,” he commented. He’d complained about them often enough, this shouldn’t be a surprise. “Another couple of hours, then it will be bath time and bedtime. I’ll see if they want to watch a movie.” He didn’t think that would be a hard sell.

Charlotte thawed a little, and ate some more of her dinner. “That sounds fun,” she agreed. “This is really good, by the way,” she assured him of the food. “It’s just hard to eat with them staring at me.”

Erik had had to get over that quickly, or he would have starved to death here. At least Charles and Raven had gotten neater as they’d gotten older, though maybe you had to see the beginning to appreciate the progress.

The children raced back into the room, cookie crumbs decorating their mouths and clothes. “My cookie wasn’t complete, Erik!” Charles complained, hanging on his arm. “It had a chunk missing! I should get another one, don’t you think?”

“No,” Erik judged, over Raven clamoring that she wanted another one too. “Sometimes that’s just how the cookie crumbles, Schatzi,” he added philosophically, wiping Charles’s mouth and shirt.

Charles found this saying hilariously clever, which was one nice thing about kids; and the boy was good-natured enough to accept that in lieu of a second treat, which left Raven fussing over nothing.

The movie idea was well-received, so they cleaned up and retired to one of the innumerable rooms in the house containing furniture and a TV. Charles wanted to watch a _Peanuts_ holiday special he had just discovered; Erik realized he had forgotten to warn Charlotte that the show would periodically be paused to allow the children to reenact their favorite parts, with the teens assisting as required, usually as straight man or furniture. And that the children would want to repeat this as often as time allowed, given that the show was only about thirty minutes long. Erik had several inane videos entirely memorized by this point.

“Let’s watch it again!” Raven insisted as the credits rolled once more, but Erik shut off the TV to a chorus of boos.

“No, it’s bath time,” he informed them. “Come on.” They were, at last, old enough to fully bathe themselves, but needed to be deposited in the bathroom with all the proper accessories to ensure compliance in a timely manner.

“But Erik,” Charles whined as he was escorted upstairs, “it’s Friday night! We can stay up late on Friday night.”

“You’ve already stayed up late,” Erik pointed out. “It’s half an hour past your bedtime. You’re completely off-schedule now.”

This did not matter as much to the children as he thought it should, and they began complaining in sync, as if that had ever gotten Erik to change his mind. “No, you’ll want to get up early in the morning to watch your cartoons,” he predicted, “and you’ll be cranky if you don’t get enough sleep.”

“I won’t be cranky, I promise!” Raven claimed, but naturally Erik did not fall for that.

“Raven, do you want Charlotte to help you pick out things for your bath?” Erik offered, by way of incentive. “She gets pajamas and underwear, her robe and slippers, and _two_ bath toys, only two.”

Charlotte nodded dutifully. “Okay, kiddo!” she said brightly to Raven, who was gazing at her suspiciously. “Why don’t you show me your bath toys? That’s fun, huh?” Raven looked like she was going to be a tough customer and Erik unashamedly retreated with Charles, relieved to be able to delegate even if he predicted he would have to clean up later.

The door to Charles’s room could be fully opened; the floor was clear in that arc, if nowhere else. Otherwise Erik would have no idea what color the carpet was, as the rest of the expansive surface was covered in layers of clothes, toys, books, and other detritus two inches deep. The room was far too large for one child, in Erik’s opinion; there was a loft play area above the bathroom, and two huge closets that were larger than Erik’s bedroom at home, plus other areas like a padded window seat and built-in desk that just created more places for debris to land.

Charles was not _dirty_ ; he did not leave food or dishes in his room, or anything else that could attract pests. He simply found it less convenient to organize things, preferring instead to root around until he found what he was looking for, or something that was close enough. The search and discovery seemed to be part of the enjoyment for him. Erik had learned some special calming techniques just for when he was in this room, waiting for Charles to find things.

“Have you seen my red pajamas, Erik?” Charles asked excitedly, holding the brightly-colored pants up. The top followed somewhat later, having been discarded in a different location. “I just found them the other day. I think I remember getting them a while ago, but they were too big then. Now they’re just right!” Proof, in his mind, that his storage ‘method’ was effective.

Erik inspected the pajamas suspiciously. “How many times have you worn them?” He sniffed at the fabric. “Did you have them washed first?”

Charles was not concerned with this. “Aren’t they pretty?” he insisted. “They’re so cheerful! I like to wear them with my yellow robe… Well, I’ll wear my blue one tonight,” he conceded, unable to locate the other.

“They _are_ cheerful,” Erik allowed, deciding the pajamas were suitable for the night. He could wash them tomorrow. “You look cute in red.”

Charles beamed at the compliment and hugged him, then bounced away to find his slippers. He ended up with one slipper shaped like an orange fish and one shaped like a green dinosaur, claiming he meant them not to match. Erik held these patiently while he waited for Charles to select his bath toys; the bathroom was kept much neater than his bedroom, for safety purposes.

“Okay, are you ready?” Erik prompted.

Charles nodded. “Will you start the water for me, Erik?” he pleaded. “I don’t like to, it’s noisy!” As if Charles had a problem with being noisy. But, Erik was feeling slightly indulgent tonight.

“You’ve been very nice to Charlotte,” he commented, turning on the bathwater for Charles. He let it run over his hand, testing the temperature. “I saw how you let her buy that railroad without fussing.” Usually Charles had exclusive claim to all the railroads in Monopoly, while Raven got the most expensive properties.

“Is she your girlfriend?” Charles asked teasingly. He did not seem upset about this idea—Erik had been watching for signs since Charlotte had suggested it. “Ha ha, your girlfriend, are you going to smooch later?” He made obnoxious kissy noises as Erik plugged the drain and stood, rolling his eyes.

“Get in the tub,” he ordered Charles. “And I’m setting the timer!” The little green frog timer on the sink began counting down twenty minutes, more than sufficient time to get clean and play a little bit, in Erik’s opinion. Charles was still giggling when he shut the door on him.

Erik could not rest now, however; he went down to Raven’s room and knocked on the door, pushing it open to find Raven modeling her green robe before the mirror while Charlotte looked on helplessly. “Green or purple?” Raven asked her reflection thoughtfully. Her room was kept much neater than Charles’s; her problem was not in _finding_ the clothes, but in deciding between them.

Erik did not put up with such delays and scooped the girl up. “Such a fashionista!” he told her, which gave her a fun word to chew over instead of complaining. He stood her in the bathroom with her pajamas and toys and set the blue whale timer on the counter. “Hurry up!” he encouraged. “Charles is going to beat you!”

“I bet he won’t!” Raven anticipated, but she hurried to start bathing.

Erik and Charlotte went out to the hall. Normally, Erik had twenty or thirty blissful minutes to himself at this point, but tonight he had to entertain his guest. “Um, I’ll show you your room,” he offered to Charlotte, who was just standing there aimlessly.

They usually put guests in the Green Room and that was indeed where Erik found her bag. “Bathroom’s right there,” he pointed out unnecessarily. “I’m down the hall.”

Charlotte sat down on the bed, making a noise of relief. “They sure are a handful,” she remarked of the kids. “You’re so good with them. How old were you, when you were bonded to Charles?”

Erik stayed leaning against the wall near the door. “Twelve.” He felt odd talking about it with her.

“So you’ve known them four years, huh?” Charlotte surmised. “I guess you’ve had a lot of practice with them.”

Actually Raven had only been adopted a couple years ago, but Erik didn’t correct her; the details didn’t seem like her business. “We’ve spent almost every weekend together since then.” Not to mention holidays and school vacations.

“Wow.”

Erik hated when people made too much of it; it made him feel self-conscious. Child bonds were not so common anymore, especially not _that_ young; the Omegas in his class, who were going into heat all the time now, were more likely to go on suppressants and come back to school in a few days, choosing their own partner at their leisure later on. Erik wondered if this made them feel insecure about their futures, or empowered.

Probably it was good that they could choose; but his choice had already been made for _him_ , and he could not imagine cutting Charles loose to make his own decision—the thought made his chest clench and his blood pressure rise, to think the little boy might be lost to him. Charles didn’t have anyone else in his everyday life, anyone responsible—Sharon had not yet recovered from her husband’s death and consoled herself with shopping and travel, being away from home more and more often. Charles—and Raven, too—deserved better than that, and Erik could offer that stability for them.

“Erik?” Charlotte prompted, and he realized he’d been lost in thought and shook himself.

“Sorry. Just getting tired,” he claimed. “Anyway, I read stories to them, and then they go to bed. Then we can take it easy and watch a movie, only without having to act it out,” he added with a faint smirk.

Charlotte chuckled a little. “That sounds nice,” she agreed. “They’re nice kids. So creative and interesting.”

“Yes. Well, I’ll leave you alone for a few minutes,” Erik announced, and did so. He found that was less awkward than asking or hinting, when he wanted to be alone himself.

Erik had his own room at the house by now, with some clothes, a toothbrush, some books. He shut the door and gave himself a few minutes to relax—it wasn’t the kids who wore him out, it was trying to think about Charlotte and whether she was enjoying herself and feeling included. Why had he thought inviting her was a good idea? Oh, right, to make up for their broken date earlier. That had seemed important at the time.

It was not in Erik’s nature to sit around doing nothing and after a moment he pulled out his homework and started organizing it. Were he alone, he would start working on it once the children went to bed; but he didn’t think that was how Charlotte wanted to spend her Friday night. Well, she’d be gone tomorrow and he could work on it Saturday night, and while the children took naps.

He kept an eye on his watch and returned to Raven’s room when he judged her time was up. She was waiting for him to knock, it seemed, and proudly threw open the door to reveal that she was all ready, wrapped in her green robe with her pink pig slippers and purple panda pajamas.

“Did I beat Charles?” she wanted to know.

“I’m sure you did,” Erik said, picking her up. “Let’s go roust him.” She giggled gleefully and whipped her wet hair in his face, but he thought that was just on accident.

They proceeded to Charles’s room and could hear him singing through the bathroom door. Erik did not let Raven down to open it—give the kid some privacy, after all—but she shouted loudly, “Charles, I’m done already! I beat you!” This was not an unusual state of affairs; Charles liked his bath time and he was not especially competitive.

“Don’t come in!” Charles shrieked hysterically in turn, as though they were beating down the door.

“We won’t,” Erik assured him. “But hurry up and get out, it’s story time.” He carried Raven over to Charles’s bed, having thought to grab some hair-care supplies. “I’ll brush your hair while we wait.”

Raven’s long blond hair was constantly tangled from her active lifestyle, and Erik had to apply liberal amounts of spray conditioner to get the brush through it without screams and tears. He was such an expert at brushing and braiding now that Raven could ignore him completely and start playing with Charles’s stuffed animals that littered the bed.

“I’m touching your toys!” she singsonged. “Hello, Tusky! Hello, Mr. Eight!”

“Don’t!” Charles yelled from the bathroom, accompanied by sloshing noises. “Leave them alone!”

Raven flicked a brown dog off the bed. “Oops! Eagle Beagle just fell on the floor!” she taunted.

“Raven!” Charles whined from the bathroom.

“Stop,” Erik told her, envisioning Charles slipping on the wet floor in his haste. “It’s okay, Charles, she’s not hurting anything.” Although Eagle Beagle might be subsumed by the mess and not be seen again for weeks. But Charles would content himself with one of his three dozen other stuffed dogs.

Raven, meanwhile, had decided to pout and make Erik’s job more difficult by moving her head. “Stop,” he repeated to her. One had to be firm, Alpha to Alpha. “You know how he is about his animals.”

“Molly’s older sister says stuffed animals are _lame_ ,” Raven reported to him. “She likes to play video games and put on make-up.”

Erik rolled his eyes. “Why does Cassie bother coming over here?” he wanted to know. He was familiar with all of their playmates and had opinions about them, largely negative.

“Her mom makes her, if Molly comes,” Raven replied matter-of-factly.

“Well, it can’t be good for Charles, to hear that kind of nonsense,” Erik decided. Charles was sensitive about his stuffed friends. “Next time she says something like that, you tell her she’s being rude and she can play by herself if she’s so grown up.”

Raven’s eyes widened. “Can I really say that?” she asked eagerly.

Erik imagined how it would come out in Raven’s interpretation, brusque and lacking in nuance. “Yes,” he decided anyway. “You don’t even like Molly that much, do you?” Because calling her sister rude would probably put a stop to playdates. But Charles didn’t need to hear that others his age thought his toys were _lame_. Make-up on a ten-year-old, _that’s_ what was lame.

He snapped the rubber band around Raven’s braid just as the bathroom door opened and Charles rushed out in a cloud of steam, blue robe flapping around his damp red pajamas and slippers carried instead of worn. He scrambled up onto the bed and began assessing the damage, as Raven grabbed at a bunch of toys and mixed them up.

“I’m touching them! I’m playing with them!” she repeated gleefully.

Charles was a very generous little boy, though; he didn’t mind if Raven _used_ his toys, as long as she didn’t _break_ them. Which was a stiff condition sometimes. He flopped over the side of the bed to retrieve Eagle Beagle and came up with three more animals, which then had to be crammed in among the others.

“Charles, are you building an ark?” Erik teased. “I think you’ve got at least _one_ of every kind.”

Raven laughed heartily at this joke, while Charles gave them both a superior look and rearranged his toys to his liking. Erik judged he was not really upset, however. “Alright, come here and let me comb your hair,” Erik instructed. Charles had less of it than Raven but still managed to tangle it. “What book shall we read tonight?”

“Can we read the next Harry Potter book?” Raven begged. “Everyone at school is reading it!”

“No,” Erik decided. “I think it would be too scary.” He didn’t say for _whom_ ; but giant spiders and snakes would have Charles up all night with bad dreams. “Pick something else.”

“I want to pick!” Charles insisted, but Erik prevented him from moving while he combed his hair, leaving Raven free to stomp around the room pulling up half-read books from the floor. The ones Charles wasn’t interested in remained safely on the shelves.

The children negotiated until Erik demanded they settle on something, so _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_ won. “Alright, let’s go to Raven’s room,” Erik prompted. She had more room in her bed.

“Can I have this one?” Raven asked Charles, picking up a stuffed rabbit.

“You can have him for tonight,” Charles allowed. “This is Dr. Hop. Dr. Hop, I’m sure you remember my sister, Raven.”

“Hello, Dr. Hop!” Raven greeted, hugging the toy to her. “You’re such a nice bunny.”

“And very well-educated,” Erik noted dryly. “Come on, it’s story time, let’s go.”

“Oh, I can’t decide who to bring—“ Charles fussed, then grabbed a monkey at the last minute as Erik and Raven were already heading out the door. “Do you remember my monkey’s name, Erik?”

“That particular monkey? No,” Erik admitted. “You had one called Commander Bananas—“ That was a memorable name.

Charlotte looked out the door of her room. “Oh, is it time for a story?” she asked pleasantly, and Erik tried not to show that he’d forgotten all about her.

“Er, yeah—“

“This monkey is Edgar Splits!” Charles announced. “Like in banana split!”

“Why Edgar?” Erik asked as they entered Raven’s room.

“It’s a funny name,” Charles claimed.

The children got under Raven’s blue train-decorated bedspread and settled down, with Erik perched on one side and Charlotte wedged onto the other. Charles and Raven were getting pretty sleepy already, Erik judged, though they tried to fight it—he didn’t think they would last very long.

“Oh, _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_!” Charlotte recognized happily. “That’s one of my favorite books because it has my name in it!”

Everyone turned to stare at her blankly for a long moment. “Oh, some people call her Charlie, as a nickname for Charlotte,” Erik finally remembered.

“ _Everyone_ calls me Charlie,” Charlotte told him, a bit coolly, but now was obviously not the time to discuss whatever nomenclature issues she had.

“Charlie can also be a nickname for Charles,” Erik added. “Shall we start calling you Charlie, Schatzi?”

“I prefer Charles,” the boy replied, with dignity, so Erik just smirked and began reading.

Normally he might have done some funny voices or sound effects; the kids loved those. But he felt slightly inhibited by Charlotte being there. He didn’t _like_ feeling inhibited by someone; maybe it was more that he didn’t feel comfortable sharing his silly side with Charlotte. That sounded more confident, anyway—you could feel uncomfortable, but not inhibited. At any rate the children were too sleepy to notice, and they hadn’t gotten very far in the book before their eyelids began to droop and their heads began to nod. Silly voices would’ve only kept them awake longer.

This was how Erik liked the children best—when they were all warm and soft and sleepy, curling up against him with their stuffed animals, so quiet and trusting. Erik was not sure what that said about him, that he liked them best when they were semi-comatose and showing no personality, but whatever, it was true.

He tapered off the book and checked that they were still asleep, then slid off the bed and checked again, then eased Charles out from under the blanket, freezing when Raven mumbled something and rolled over, the toy rabbit clutched under her arm. She didn’t wake, though, so Erik held Charles against his shoulder with one hand—the boy clung to him in his sleep, like a good baby primate—and tucked Raven in with the other. He gave the little girl a kiss on her cheek, then slipped from the room with Charlotte behind him.

“I’ll meet you downstairs,” he whispered to her. He did not want her to intrude on him putting Charles to bed. “Pick out a movie.”

“I’m not asleep!” Charles said suddenly, attempting to sit up in Erik’s arms.

“Yes, you are,” Erik corrected.

“Oh, okay,” Charles agreed, and put his head back down on Erik’s shoulder. Charlotte stifled a giggle and left, while Erik carried the boy back to his room. He was not heavy; Charles was small for his age, barely bigger than Raven, and Erik liked to work out and was often taken to be older than he was. He liked being able to carry Charles around, though he supposed one day it would no longer be possible, or desired.

But that day had not yet come, and Erik tucked Charles in under his blankets, piling his toys around his arms but moving them away from his face so he wasn’t smothered. “Goodnight, Schatzi,” he murmured, kissing his forehead.

“Erik!” Charles sounded a little too lucid, struggling for wakefulness.

“Go to sleep,” Erik told him. “We’ll play in the morning.”

“Did Mummy call?” Charles asked drowsily. “I didn’t want to miss Mummy’s call!”

Erik blinked, having not thought of Sharon for hours. He rarely did, actually. “No, she didn’t call,” he replied. “She’s traveling, you know,” he added by way of excuse. “Maybe she’ll call tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Charles nodded. His blue eyes shown bright for a moment. “Goodnight, Erik.”

“Goodnight,” Erik repeated, and reluctantly left him.

**

The movie Charlotte had chosen was a bit dull, but Erik suspected that was on purpose, and he didn’t mind a bit, because he enjoyed kissing her instead of paying attention to it. Kissing was nice. It was talking that led to difficulties. And what was the point of talking, anyway? It wasn’t like they were going to get married, even if Charles wasn’t around. They were only sixteen—Erik didn’t know what he would be looking for if he wasn’t already bonded, but he was certain he wouldn’t be looking for anything permanent at this age. Better to have fun and enjoy themselves while they could.

Something made Erik uneasy, though, and he pulled away slightly from Charlotte to listen. There was the movie, which usefully muffled _them_ in case any of the staff wandered by, but it could also be muffling something else.

“What is it?” Charlotte asked breathlessly. Her eyes blazed, only for him, her cheeks pink with a flush _he_ had put there; other concerns fell away as he gazed at her, seeking some deeper connection that seemed tantalizingly within reach.

“Nothing,” Erik decided, and leaned back in.

A noise percolated his brain—too late he recognized a giggle, and a thump—and then something landed on his head, spilling in a powdery mess all over them, blurring their vision and making them cough and choke. Accompanied by childish laughter at hysterical levels.

“What the _f—k_?!” Erik demanded, though he already knew what had happened, and blearily spotted Charles and Raven just behind the couch, holding the now-empty flour tin that they had completely upended over Erik and Charlotte. To their young minds, this was the absolute height of comedic achievement.

Erik disagreed.

“You spoiled little s—ts, what the f—k are you doing?!” he snarled, leaping over the back of the couch, shedding flour everywhere. Charles and Raven’s eyes widened—it never seemed to occur to them that someone else might not find it so amusing—and they dashed off frantically. Erik had a longer stride, but they were fueled by more adrenaline, and not covered in flour, which made Erik skid on the hardwood floors. They might also have had their escape route planned in advance—at least, faced with a turn, they split up, knowing Erik couldn’t follow both.

Erik went after Charles, chasing him through the wide hallways, fury driving his steps, but there was also something that felt _good_ about running flat out, chasing his Omega down. Charles thought he was special and could get away with anything? He was about to find out that he was oh so wrong.

Erik thought he heard his name called out behind him, but he ignored it, because Charles was heading for the outside door now, which would be a whole new arena. Opening it slowed him and Erik almost got him, but the boy vaulted down the back steps and across the patio into the yard. Dirty snow covered the ground, nearly vanishing into mud—this was going to be messy, but Erik was already a mess from the flour, and he didn’t hesitate to follow.

Charles glanced backwards, his robe flapping behind him, and pushed himself to run even harder when he saw Erik gaining, veering away from the lawn into the woods. Erik sucked in lungfuls of the moist, pungent air, feeling like his eyesight sharpened in the moonlight, zooming in on Charles and targeting him. His Omega could never lose him in the woods, if anything Erik felt more power coursing through his veins. As soon as he caught the little brat, he was going to—

Charles let out a shout and skidded suddenly, his arms flailing to keep himself upright, and Erik realized with horror where they were—Charles had run right out onto the frozen pond. Which was not necessarily entirely frozen any longer.

“Charles!” Erik shouted. He stumbled to a stop at the edge of the ice, not wanting to add his greater weight to it. The boy caught his balance and stood still for a moment, Erik straining to see or hear any cracks in the surface. Slowly Charles turned around. “Don’t move,” Erik ordered him, already starting to run around the perimeter of the pond to the side Charles was closer to. “Just stay right there, Charles!”

Miraculously, Charles did as he was told, until Erik got around to the other side. “Erik, do you think the ice will hold me?” Charles asked curiously, as if that question wasn’t entirely occupying Erik’s mind right now.

“Of course it will, Schatzi,” Erik told him calmly, testing to see how close he could get while staying on solid ground.

“Stewart said we shouldn’t try skating on it,” Charles remembered. “But, Erik, people in books skate on ponds all the time! Like Hans Brinker.”

“That’s right, they do,” Erik agreed, leaning one foot on the ice. It made an ominous creaking noise. “Can you scoot over here to me? Just shuffle your feet, like Hans Brinker.”

Charles tried. “In the summer, we swim in the pond,” he added, making incremental progress. “I know how to swim, Erik! If I fell in I would just swim to shore.”

“Just keep scooting towards me, Schatzi,” Erik encouraged evenly. “Come on, you’re almost—“ Charles overstepped and started to slip, and Erik took a step forward and grabbed him, stomping heavily on the thin ice at the edge and putting his foot right through it. Fortunately the pond was only a few inches deep at that point, but bone-chillingly cold, and Erik felt his foot sink down into the mud with a squelch. But he had a firm grip on Charles, that was the important thing, and he hauled the boy back to solid ground.

Erik knelt down to check on him, feeling more icy mud soak into his jeans. “Are you okay?” he asked, examining his exposed skin. Charles’s mismatched slippers were covered in mud but he didn’t seem to have any cuts or scrapes.

“Yes, I’m alright, Erik,” Charles assured him, as Erik bundled his robe back up. “Only my feet are cold!” He looked around. “And it’s quite dark out here.”

Erik stood, then picked Charles up and started walking back to the house. “It’s okay, Schatzi, I know where we are.”

“I know where we are, Erik!” Charles insisted. “We’re at the pond, the house is right over there.” They could almost see it through the trees. Courteously, Charles wiped some flour off Erik’s shoulders, then messed up his hair under the guise of helping to clean him further.

“I am going to take you back to that pond and dump you in,” Erik threatened with exasperation. Exasperation, he could live with, though. Losing Charles, he couldn’t.

“I don’t think you will!” the boy laughed, but pleasantly, like Erik had just told a joke.

“What were you thinking, dumping flour on me and Charlotte like that?” Erik demanded. Whatever power had driven him through the woods was ebbing now, and he felt exhausted—more and more as he approached the house and thought about what was waiting inside it, like Charlotte’s angry face. “Don’t you like her? She won’t want to come back after this!”

Charles appeared not to have considered this, or desired it. “Oh. We just thought it would be funny to sneak up on you!” he explained brightly. “Raven wanted to pour water on you, but I thought that would be mean.”

Well, at least he hadn’t wanted to be mean. That was important, right? “Resist the urge to do _anything_ funny next time,” Erik advised dryly.

Everyone was waiting for them at the back door, including the staff who had been awakened by the ruckus. Erik pulled off Charles’s wet, muddy slippers and handed the boy to Stewart. “Soak his feet in warm water for a few minutes,” Erik instructed. “He might need to change his pajamas.” He gave the slippers to the housekeeper. “Not sure if you can salvage these.” Still outside, he carefully took off his sweatshirt and turned it inside out, trying to contain the floury mess, and added his muddy socks to the pile.

“Oh!” Charles realized in distress. “You weren’t wearing shoes, Erik!”

“No, I was not wearing shoes,” Erik agreed, accepting a towel to clean his feet with. “Next time you want to race through the mud, let’s _both_ put our shoes on first, okay?”

“Does Charles get to take another bath?” Raven demanded, pushing her way through. “ _I_ want to take another bath!”

Erik took her shoulders and turned her around. “You are both going straight back to your rooms!” he ordered. “And there will be _no_ cartoons in the morning!” Outraged whines met this pronouncement but Erik was firm as he led them back through the house. He would’ve assigned them to help the staff vacuum up the flour, but that would be cruel to the staff. “ _And_ , no cookies all weekend. Because Mrs. Henderson was going to use that flour to make cookies, and you wasted it.” This was not necessarily true, but he trusted the cause and effect would be clear.

“Bed,” Erik added to Raven, nudging her into her room. She could pout all she wanted, as long as she did so quietly in her room. “Soak, then bed,” he reiterated to Stewart of Charles, and the boy was carried away, leaving Erik alone in the hall. He decided a hot shower would be nice.

Charlotte stepped out of her room, wrapped in a bathrobe with a towel around her hair, and Erik realized he’d forgotten about her again. Odd how that kept happening. “Oh, are you alright?” he thought to ask.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Just a mess! I’m going to take a shower. That was pretty awful!”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Erik shrugged philosophically. “I think it could have been worse.”

Charlotte snorted. “Well, they sure seem like little monsters to _me_! After we spent all evening playing with them—“ She paused when she saw the look Erik was giving her. “You called them that yourself!” she protested. “Erik, they dumped, like, two pounds of flour on us!”

She had a point. But Erik felt like there was a difference between _him_ calling the children names, and someone _else_ calling them names. But maybe this was too important an issue to deal with right now, when he was tired and his brain was fried from the latest Charles rollercoaster. Maybe it was too important to deal with Charlotte about at all.

“Yeah,” Erik replied perfunctorily. “Well, you won’t have to put up with them for very long,” he noted. “Um, sorry for the inconvenience. I’ll see you in the morning.” He wasn’t sure what else was proper etiquette to say at that point, so he decided to cut his losses and retire, barefoot and muddy, to his room. Another weekend with Charles, off to a great start.


End file.
